


iron sharpeneth iron

by Caracalliope



Category: The Comfortable Courtesan - Madame C- C-
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Fear, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caracalliope/pseuds/Caracalliope
Summary: AU: Maurice gives Nat some very bad advice. He arrives to negotiate the consequences.
Relationships: Maurice Allard & Nat Barron
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	iron sharpeneth iron

Nat wasn’t expecting to see Maurice Allard around the Seven Dials again. But here he is, elegant as a gent, calm as you please. Takes Nat effort to hold back the usual smile.

"Mr Barron," says Maurie. "Have received news of Paffenrath's passing. Seems he was discovered on th’other side of the river."

" _Most_ of him," Nat amends. One ear came off before the kill, the other right after.

‘Twasn’t for fun, or even justice, but the boys were getting restless. Nat’s been to the play four times, knows the value of a _telling effect_.

"Ah," Maurie says, voice idle like unto a lord’s. "Well, I’ve a strange old letter here, could be of interest to you."

Nat lifts a brow, in that elegant way he practices in the pier glass. "Best come to my private room, Mr Allard." One of the boys looks up but doesn't dare interrupt.

When Nat closes the door, Maurie goes from _tall and proud_ to no more or less than himself. Nat thinks of the alley cat he rescued th’other week. She grew in size when surrounded by dogs, changed entire when he brought her into the warm.

But his old friend has a grey look about his face.

"Sit," Nat orders, and even pulls out a chair. He pours them both his finest gin. Maurie drinks like in the old days, no frills about it.

"It’s no real letter," Maurie says then. "‘Tis just an old bill copy I found around the salon."

"Oh?"

"Thought it could distract your hounds and give me good reason to come back here with you."

" _Oh_?"

"You can’t blame a wretch, Nat, for wanting no witnesses when he prostrates himself at your feet."

Nat stares with some alarm, but Maurie only goes pour himself more gin. He never was a coward.

"I don’t need your help," Nat says in time, "to keep the boys in line."

"La, Mr Barron, my antient profession taught me ‘tis best to _ease the way_ for gentlemen that may be in a taking."

When Maurie makes his molly-jokes - well, it can be the warmth of drink and friendship loosening up that careful tongue, or it can be a trick to goad stronger, duller men into throwing the first punch. It gives him control over when the fighting’s to start.

"Maurie," Nat says, "I’ve no desire or reason to hurt you."

"No?" Maurie pours himself a third glass. Those long fingers have ever looked fragile, but they’re steady. "I recommended that scheming fool Paffenrath - "

"That paid his own debt in the surest way. There’s nothing more to say on the matter."

"You don’t believe," Maurie starts, a strain in his voice for the first time, "that I plotted against you?

Nat is surprised into a laugh. "Sure if you wished it, you would have me on the gallows already."

"An odd reason to trust a fellow", Maurie says, still looking down at his hands.

Nat shrugs. He will not have it go ‘bout that he’s gone soft, but - well, Maurie’s silly farce might answer. He'll make a joke or two about learning the secrets of Allard's new trade, and none will question what advice he won.

"He wasn’t a friend of yours?" he asks suddenly, with the merest throb of what would once have been _fine Christian guilt_. "That swine Paffenrath?"

Of all things, that is what gets Maurie to look up at him and laugh. "La, my dear Nat, sure I have no apprehension of _Bavarians_ but the finest of society will tell you I’ve always had an exquisite taste in friends."


End file.
